Ropes of Love
by uncontained hybrid
Summary: At first glance, Molly and Arthur Weasley looked like the parents of the normal, run-of-the-mill family – the kind with a house built upon laughter, where there were always people flitting in and out, where one of the many children always had a friend over – functional. But, look a little closer, and the story of Molly and Arthur is not quite as idyllic as it might sound.


_For Sam. _

At first glance, Molly and Arthur Weasley looked like the parents of the normal, run-of-the-mill family – the kind with a house built upon laughter, where there were always people flitting in and out, where one of the many children always had a friend over – _functional_.

But, look a little closer, and the story of Molly and Arthur is not quite as idyllic as it might sound.

_i. _

When Molly, still living life as a Prewett, announced to her parents that she intended to marry Arthur Weasley, it didn't go over quite as she and Arthur had hoped.

Her father had flown into a rage. _"I won't allow you to marry that Muggle-obsessed, shiftless, good-for-nothing son of old Septimus Weasley!"_ he'd bellowed.

Mrs. Prewett had been far quieter in her disapproval. "Cedrella Black," she'd sniffed, "made a horrible mistake in marrying Septimus Weasley. I won't allow you to be blinded by what you, a young girl, think is love," she'd snorted, keeping up the pretence that she was happy living under her husband in their arranged marriage.

_ii. _

As everyone in the wizarding world knows, pureblood families aren't known for being perfectly sane. And Muriel Prewett certainly wasn't. Kinder spirits said her mild case of insanity had manifested in her middle age, and she grew increasingly batty as she grew older. Others, however, including her relatives, claimed she'd been insane since the day she was born, and several other Prewetts of Muriel's generation told tales of Ethel Prewett, Muriel's mother, dropping Muriel when the latter had been a small child.

Muriel was one of those people who never realised when they were not wanted. Like most people who belong in this circle, she was not one for polite, sociable conversation. She tended to talk _at_ you, in that grating bark of hers, rather than _with_ you.

Her constant intrusions got in the way of the Weasley's home life, but they didn't dare to disrespect her, lest they be cut out of her will.

Needless to say, both Molly and Arthur were secretly pleased when she took offence at Fred and George setting off a firecracker under her chair at Christmas one year.

_iii. _

Money was one of Molly and Arthur's most constant worries throughout their long relationship. Having seven children to care for and feed, and of course, like most parents, they wanted to indulge their children sometimes. But money went out, and out, and out, and never seemed to come in, hard as Arthur worked.

"Arthur," Molly whispered one night, in the shelter of their bedroom's darkness.

"Hmm?" Arthur responded groggily.

"Would you like-," here Molly cleared her throat, "would you like me to get a job?"

Molly felt Arthur's body tense beside her.

"Why in Merlin's name would you want to do that?" Arthur spluttered.

"I just wanted to help the family," she murmured, tracing circles on the bed sheet to calm herself.

Arthur draped an arm around Molly. "Would you be happy, working, not staying home with the children? Tell me honestly."

Molly slumped a little. "No," she admitted.

"You want to do it for the money, hmm?"

"What's wrong with that?" Molly shot back defensively.

"Because I want you to be happy. And I know you, Molly, and I know that you have always wanted to be a mother. And if you were on a salary, receiving the contents of the Malfoy vault every year, you would be happier at home."

Molly bit her lip, holding back tears. "Thank you," she whispered, as Arthur's snores began to fill the room.

_iv. _

Once, the Burrow had been lit up brightly, looking warm and cheery and _homely_. These days, the house seemed to be cloaked in a constant state of _black_, dark and moody and uninviting.

Once, Arthur and Molly Weasley had seven children. Now, they had only six.

They say that eighty to ninety percent of marriages fall away after the loss of a child. Molly and Arthur, however, somehow managed to belong in that smaller percentage, with the other ten to twenty percent.

Because the flame of their love burnt strong, and the ropes that bound their relationship, as strong as they'd ever been.


End file.
